Magic Malkeem. That’s what they had called him during the war. Nowadays he was known as Malkeem the Malicious or Malkeem the Mad. He preferred just being called Malkeem, but whatever. What people called him was of little consequence for he had bigger problems to deal with.
Today had been quite an annoyance. First he had to go up North and deal with some other upstart necromancer poaching his minions, then when he came back South to collect his fortnightly revenue from the Bandits squatting on his lands, he found them all dead. Vecna curse them, how hard could it be to collect some gold from some nansy pansy merchants. Honestly. Then he was obliged to hunt down this upstart merchant – who by the way had two well armed guards with him – and off him. Finally, not wanting to waste fresh meat, he had to use up the last of his ritual supplies to raise all of the dead and bind them to him, after all, it wouldn’t do to have to do all the menial tasks such as collecting gold, making camp, preparing the food himself.
Yes, after a long days work, Malkeem was quite looking forward to returning to base camp for a good nights rest and good meal courtesy of Zak, the minion he had appointed as Master Chef.